Best Two Falls Out of Three
by Atalanta Pendragonne
Summary: Snape gets an evening visit.


BEST TWO FALLS OUT OF THREE  
  
  
  
Trying to keep order in Potions the next day was a Sisyphean task of the first order. The Gryffindor students snickered and hummed the "Slytherin Fight Song" behind his back. Draco Malfoy kept squirming in his seat and giving him hurt-puppy looks. And the Longbottom boy put *naphtha* in his Corium Aquae solution. Snape sighed. At least he'd managed to stall the class for long enough to be sure the mess had exploded *before* Neville had a chance to smear it on his skin. The stench had been so vile, he'd dismissed class early just so he wouldn't have to smell it.  
  
Dinner wasn't exactly an improvement. Various Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws kept coming over to high-five Addams, Braddock, and Rosen. Seeing his clenched teeth, Minerva McGonagall had leaned over to him and said, "Don't pay them any mind, Severus. It was only a cute little joke."  
  
Cute little joke indeed. It was enough to make him lose his appetite. He stood abruptly and left the table, mulling over just what he'd do for their detention. As he stalked away, he heard someone call out,  
  
"Hey Malfoy, hadn't you better go too? I hear your lips had an appointment with his backside tonight!"  
  
No discipline, any of them. No respect. No manners. He stormed through the halls to his rooms in a fog of righteous indignation.  
  
Seeing a slight figure sitting against his door did nothing to lighten his mood. He drew in a deep breath. Malfoy *again*!  
  
No. Not Malfoy. Ron Weasley, peering up at him with a hesitant smile. "Would it help if I said you're beautiful when you're angry?"  
  
"That's disingenuous and impudent. Why are you here?"  
  
"If I said I thought you needed cheering up, would you believe me?"  
  
"If I said no, would you go away?"  
  
Ron clasped one of Snape's hands and laid it on his cheek. Snape shuddered as the boy's warm breath caressed his palm. "Do you want me to go away?"  
  
"Don't answer a question with a question, it's puerile."  
  
"I won't if you won't."  
  
Snape ushered Ron hastily into his room, belatedly hoping that no-one had heard the verbal sparring in the hallway.  
  
"Now. The real reason for this visit?"  
  
"Because I could tell you weren't happy." Ron began fumbling with the fastenings of his robe. "I thought... a little company might make you feel better?" He probably hadn't meant that as a question, but his voice rose at the end a little too much for it to be the confident statement he had doubtless envisioned himself making.  
  
"Mr Weasley," Snape sighed, "Have you ever known me to seek out your company-- when I wasn't drugged, that is?"  
  
Ron's face fell. "I knew you were only interested in me because of that stupid Elixir. I never should have made that stuff."  
  
Honestly, the boy was the most.... Well, maybe second most....*among* the most exasperating of his students. Snape sat on the edge of his bed. "You're right on that second count, at least." He ran a hand through his hair. "This is the last time I'm going to explain this to you. I only dragged you out of class and molested you in my office because of the Aphrodite Elixir. Otherwise, you're a healthy, attractive young man, but you are also one of my students. I do *try* not to have sex with my students." Yeah, you try so hard, a vicious corner of his mind whispered. Snape ignored it.  
  
By now, Ron's robe and shirt were in a pile on the floor. He wormed his way onto the bed next to Snape. "It's not like you haven't been with me already," he pointed out. "And I'm lonely."  
  
"Why would *you* be lonely?" Snape snorted. "I was rather under the impression that you and the illustrious Mr. Potter were... ahem, sharing blankets."  
  
"Oh, *him*," muttered Ron, resting his head against Snape's shoulder and trying to insinuate an arm beneath his robes. "He's my friend," he managed to make the word a curse, "But that's all he wants, from me at least. Oh, he'll mess around with me after lights out and all, but it's just a game to him, and I'm sick of it." Ron's hand had found one of Snape's nipples, and he circled it with light fingertip strokes. "I'm not the one he wants. I'm just convenient."  
  
"I see." Snape's voice was tense and flat. "Convenient. And that's not good enough for you, I take it."  
  
"Not from him," Ron whispered.  
  
"So what," Snape spat through gritted teeth, "Makes you think," He seized Ron's exploring hand by the wrist and held it away from him, "That *I* would like to be *convenient* for you?"  
  
Ron looked at him, startled. "But it's not like that!"  
  
"It's *exactly* like that, Mr. Weasley. You don't want me, you just want sex. You're perfectly capable of masturbating without using my body as a tool. I suggest you go do so, somewhere else. I'm not your sex toy."  
  
Ron's face turned an ugly red, and for a moment it looked as though he might cry. Then he stood and stormed angrily for the door. "Fine, then! I can find someone else!" He slammed the door behind him.  
  
Snape waited, counting under his breath. One, two, three....  
  
Tap-tap-tap, on the door.  
  
Wordlessly, Snape tossed Ron's robes and shirt out the door. Then he laid in his solitary bed and cursed himself for a damned fool. 


End file.
